Tug-at-your-heartstrings new adult first love story.
What starts as a bet to avoid cleanup duties at her minimum wage cashier job, wins Amelie D'Amico more than she's ever hoped for.
When Ben, a cute customer who always checkouts at her register, fi...
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I'm a nasty pervert. That's what I am. Ben's unhappy, looking to a friend for help, yet images of his research invade my brain. Ben watching 'Sleepless in Seattle', maybe reading 'Gone with the Wind', or a pile of bodice-rippers.
The picture in my head flips to me in my room, hand reaching out to grab a romance novel Ben's floppy hair falling over the clear-sky blue eyes staring at me from its cover, the other opening a drawer with...My pulse races. When was the last time I reacted to a man this way? A couple of months without sex and I'm hot and bothered at a mere mention of porn? I'm so not nun material.
"Amélie? Will you help?" His repeated question resembles a plea, and I didn't mean to make him beg. What's wrong with me? I lost my humanity. My compassion. It's a serious conversation, and he's being so honest. Too honest? There's absolutely such a thing as too honest. Not something I suffer from, but maybe I can put my failed relationships to good use and share what not to do.
"I don't know... I'm not sure." Do I want to help him? I need more time to make a decision. Latin doesn't seem so daunting compared to this anymore. "What do you mean by help, and am I the right person to provide said help?" I rub my face. "How about you explain a bit what you mean, before I'm one hundred percent on board with this."
His head swivels toward me. "You're in then?"
In what I'm not sure, but I find myself nodding. My subconscious decides I want to do this before my logical self does.
"You have the right to be aware of who you are dealing with." His hands are back to the rhythmic open-close-open-close, his eyes scan.
A door bangs closed below, but the steps move away and not to us. The library's staircase waits for us to spill more of our secrets. The lack of natural light and the seclusion provide a forced intimacy our walk and the store's parking lot lacked.
"The depth of my theoretical, and the dearth of my practical knowledge"—he's facing away, and I can barely hear what he's saying—"is out in the open, what else should we go over?"
Everything? Starting with how come some shallow girl hasn't snatched him up for his looks alone? Bad question. Not asking him that.
"Can we go down?"
"Right." He rocks on the balls of his feet. "I was going to show you something."
I hold the railing and pull myself up. "No running down the steps anymore though."
Ben waits until I reach the landing and we walk down one step at a time. They are marble with a black and white pattern. I run my hand along the smooth wood of the railing. I've always taken the escalators in the middle of the building and never seen a plan that showed this stairwell.
Am I going to help him fill out a dating profile? Sit in a booth behind him while he's on a date? It's something I would've done for Angie, if she'd asked, but that girl doesn't need any advice. Ben thinks he does. Why does he think I have the slightest idea about the dating world? Let's start with that.
